PREACHING TO THE CHOIR

It doesn’t do much good preaching to the choir when the choir’s not listening. I’ve been preached to about the value of not procrastinating. I’ve learned that lesson well… more times than I can recount.

I’ve preached to others about the virtue of not procrastinating and not making the same mistakes twice too. One of the multitudes of people I’ve given the speech about, “not making the same mistakes twice”, is my youngest daughter. She got to witness me feasting on my hypocritical flavored words, yet again.

“An umbrella’s in the pool,” she said.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. I didn’t have to to tell her who’s fault it was.. Her mom isn’t so different than her dad. I knew she knew. Plus, I gave myself a mental pat on the back for not throwing her mom under the bus. Till now…

preaching to the choir

image courtesy of Pinterest

That was a Friday morning. By Sunday afternoon, the time I got around to umbrella fishing, the open nine foot umbrella, along with the ultra heavy metal stand designed to keep umbrellas from blowing over and into pools, was half-way into the deep end of the pool. Of course the wind blew west. There’s no lesson to be learned by an easterly gust…

I’m not sure why I tried to tread water and yank the water filled fabric and steel weighted base plate toward the shallow end… I would have felt pretty foolish if I hadn’t been preoccupied with trying to get air back into my lungs and water out of them.

With no diving mask or kid’s goggles handy, they’re everywhere until you need them, and contact lenses in my eyes, the second attempt to rescue the sunken umbrella was an exercise in braille. By the time I dove down, fumbled around and got my hands on the umbrella pole, traced it down to the stand and finally located the knob, or the place the knob used to be that turned to release the pole, I was out of breath again.

There was just a nut where a plastic knob used to cover. I quickly thought about the prospect of getting out, trudging to the garage to guess at the size of the wrench that I’d need to dive back down and loosen the nut. That was when the monster in me came out and I ripped the pole from the base and made for the surface.

I hacked and eventually caught my breath. After taking breathing breaks, I did finally rescue the umbrella and had it deck side.

My youngest got her swimming suit on to help, but she could’t budge the base plate, even under water. By the time I dove, deadlifted the weight a couple feet at a time before having to resurface, I had the base plate into shallow water… and a gash on my ankle from it.

I wasn’t preaching to the choir then. “Well that sucked,” I said catching by breath. My daughter just nodded.